


Love Is Served In A Coffee Cup (I Like Mine Sweet, Hope You Do Too)

by KillJoy998



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: AU!Coffee shop, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillJoy998/pseuds/KillJoy998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Patrick will gather all pick up lines ever invented and burn them at the stake, except it's not really necessary. Well, Frank doesn't seem to think so, but that's Frank. He's a bastard. Patrick doesn't listen to Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Served In A Coffee Cup (I Like Mine Sweet, Hope You Do Too)

**Author's Note:**

> Don't even ask.

“Wentz at twelve o’clock,” Andy mutters quietly to Patrick, passing by to go into the staffroom.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the younger of the two groans, hitting his head on the wall before turning to the counter and dropping his pen onto it.

 

The infamous tattoo clad man smiles all too innocently at Patrick before jumping onto a seat in front of the counter, clasping his hands together. Patrick braces himself, he does, because he sees this guy _everywhere_ and all he’s ever said to him are pickup lines that should be illegal to say over ten times. He’s heard them all so he tries his best to act professional as he wipes down the table top.

 

“Does your left eye hurt? Because you've been looking right all day,” the older man chirps, sending Patrick a wink before resting his head back.

 

“Hey, Pete,” Patrick sighs, simply exasperated.

 

He turns his head so he doesn’t have to look at the man he’s been the subject of affection for about five months, clicking on the coffee machine because he knows Pete’s order off by heart by now.

 

Frank’s in the corner snickering like the child he is. Patrick flips him off, because he’s an asshole. Really, he is. He wonders what Pete actually sees in him. He slides the coffee over, making sure not to give any eye contact. Pete doesn’t comment or say anymore, he simply nods his head before disappearing out of the shop. Frank looks smug because he’s a bastard.

\-----

 

Pete has been Patrick’s problem for nearly half a year. It’s not that Patrick doesn’t like him, because he does, it’s just he wishes for an actual conversation. Like, actual discussion about interests and hobbies, and so far, he’s had none of that. So you can’t blame the guy for toning Pete out altogether.

 

Well, you can, evidently, because Frank does. Then again, that’s Frank, so Patrick takes no notice of him either.

 

So really, to Patrick, it’s a win-win situation.

\------

 

“Your shift ends right now,” William orders, pushing Patrick gently towards the door.

 

Patrick rolls his eyes, trying to stay indignant, “I can take the extra long one.”

 

“You _want_ to do extra work?” Gabe gawks at him.

 

William whacks the back of Gabe’s head. Patrick smirks internally, but not just because of that reason. Well, it is, because Gabe’s hilarious when he wants to be. When he finally replays the older man’s question, it starts to rig in. He doesn’t particularly want to work into the late hours of the night, but if he gets off work now it’s _guaranteed_ that he’ll stumble into Pete. He knows he will because that’s just his luck.

 

“Stop it,” Bill snaps, trying to put his focus back on Patrick.

 

It doesn’t work at all, mainly because Gabe is attached to him and will definitely not let go.

 

“Bilvy,” Gabe groans like some kid begging to stay up late on a school night.

 

William’s not having it, and really, Patrick’s found a new respect for the man.

 

“ _You_ ,” he turns sharply, detaching himself from the Latino, “Get back to work. Now.”

 

Gabe’s about to protest but Patrick’s sick of it too. He’s out of the door before he gets to see Gabe fake cry.

\--------

 

“I don’t have a Library card, but I’d love to check you out,” a voice behind him says too loudly.

 

Patrick jumps, slamming his book closed before closing his eyes tightly. He just wants one place where Pete won’t follow him. The older man doesn’t seem like much of a reader to Patrick, so a place of peace should have been the Library. _Should_ is obviously the operative word here.

 

“Hey, Pete,” Patrick swallows, counting to ten quietly so he doesn’t just lash out.

 

Pete doesn’t say anymore, and Patrick’s pretty sure he sees the other man’s face fall. He tries to ignore it, averting his eyes back to the page he was on before he jumped out of his skin.

 

He doesn’t hear anything else after it, so he guessed Pete had left him. _Good riddance,_ he thinks.

\-------------

 

Gabe’s wriggling his hips and blasting out some old dance pop song that’s playing on the radio in the back room. It’s way too fucking loud, but no one really dares to stop it.

 

“What is this crap?” a customer asks, bewildered.

 

Patrick just sighs- he tends to do that a lot- and goes back to using the cloth to wipe down spilt coffee. He’s not sure himself really, but everyone knows not to turn off this kind of music with Gabe here. It might not be fair, but even William doesn’t go against it, so really everyone is at a loss. The customers seem a bit too aggravated to sit there, and it’s why a lot of them leave during this hour. Patrick is assuming Gabe doesn’t care at the lack of customers even when William smirks as he reminds him that if the shop doesn’t get their money advances right, then Gabe’s pay check will slip. Gabe doesn’t hesitate to state that as long as he gets to see William everyday then it is the only payment he will ever need.

 

Patrick internally rolls his eyes because that’s another pick up line that’s going into his trash drawer in his mind.

 

Frank’s laughing at the scene, because he’s fucking Frank and he has nowhere else to go.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Patrick voices out loud, turning scornfully at the older man.

 

Frank salutes him, shrugging his shoulders half-heartedly.

 

“No.”

 

“Didn’t think so,” Patrick breathes out, shaking his head before going back to the task at hand.

\------

Patrick sucks at writing. It’s as simple as that. His penmanship is fantastic; anyone with eyesight would agree with that, it’s just what the words say.

 

Andy had given him a literature task to do, and he’s apparently allowed to do so because he’s basically his boss, which is ridiculous because William is Patrick’s boss. It made no fucking sense to Patrick, and he tries to get his head around it when he’s not being pestered by Pete or pulling on a leaver that produces coffee.

 

It’s meant to be some sort of poem, or lyrics for a song, or just _something_. He doesn’t like it, like, at all. Patrick works in _coffee_ shop, and if he wanted to be the next Poe he would’ve took it up in University. He’s actually thinking about giving the task to Frank, because let’s be honest, the man could do with something to do.

 

He knows he’s made the right decision out of his own humor when Frank looks like he’s been told to go climb Mount Everest as Patrick places down a notebook and pen in front of him. Frank looks sort of exasperated, popping a chip he got from the take out next door into his mouth. He chews, mouth open- which is disgusting- as he contemplates. Patrick kind of wishes he’d hurry up.

 

“So, what? I have to write a song?” he questions when Patrick explains.

 

“No,” the younger cuts in, sitting beside him, “Or, yes. I... I’m not quite sure. Joe wants Andy to have this big literature... _thing_ , so they can become famous. A reading of some sort.”

 

“That...” Frank starts, flicking his hair out of his eyes, “Makes absolutely no sense.”

 

“Try telling them that,” Patrick scoffs, holding his head in his hands.

 

Life is exhausting, that’s all he has to say on the matter.

 

“A reading,” Frank echoes, glancing down to the paper, “I don’t have anything else to do.”

 

“You don’t have anything else to do,” Patrick parrots, and he wishes he could just shut his mouth.

 

Frank spares Patrick a look before he nods again. He doesn’t want to load it onto Frank’s shoulders because he definitely knows a poem to read at some sort of convent will not get Joe famous in any way whatsoever, especially since he didn’t write it himself, so he’d be happy to go tell the two to fuck off.

 

“You don’t have to,” Patrick tells him hastily, chewing on his bottom lip.

 

Frank swallows the rest of his food, crumpling up the packet and throwing it into the bin in the corner on the other side of the shop. It was really impressive.

 

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” Frank repeats.

 

“Right,” Patrick nods, standing up to go pull some more leavers.

 

There’s peace for about ten minutes before Pete Wentz is bounding up to the counter and sitting in the chair opposite Patrick directly. It’s not like he was counting, actually no. He’s not ashamed. He was counting.

 

The older man doesn’t look directly at Patrick at first; his eyes were fixated on Frank nibbling on the pen. Patrick internally slaps a memo on the fact that he does _not_ want that pen back. Pete’s eyes averts to the blank piece of paper before focusing on Patrick, a small smile in place.

 

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

 

Patrick breathes out a laugh, and then he freezes, because _shit_ , he just laughed at _Pete’s pick up line_ and he looks to the right and there _isn’t_ a flying pig right outside the window.

 

Pete looks just as surprised as Patrick feels, and then he’s flashing Patrick a brighter smile, and it actually looks really cute. Patrick chooses not to actually say anything, successfully ignoring Frank’s smirk, turning so he could make Pete’s coffee for him.

 

The dark haired man pays before almost skipping out of the door. Frank opens his mouth to say something, but Patrick cuts him off sharply.

 

“ _Don’t_.”

\-------

 

Patrick would like to be informed personally that the coffee shop being transformed into a disco is perfectly fine with William. He hasn’t though, so he guesses that they’re pulling this off without Bill’s permission.

 

Music is blaring from newly put in speakers, and Gabe has moved all the tables and chairs to the sides of the room so there’s a really big space in the middle for dancing. It’s ridiculous, because they are meant to be _working_ , but apparently no one really cares like he does.

 

Andy is spinning in his chair, a smile on his face, and Joe and Gabe are in the middle of the floor dancing away like they’re drink. Well, they very might well be. Brendon’s with them now, actually, so Patrick just hopes that whatever they have taken they don’t give any to poor young Brendon. It doesn’t seem to matter, because it’s really only them. There’s no customers except for Frank, who’s in the corner with that mocking piece of paper and Patrick’s pen.

 

Frank has already has his dance, and has even sung a little, so Patrick can’t blame him when he watched the man go back to his favourite corner. He’s impressed that Frank is a dedicated man though, because he really seems to be thinking of things to write down.

 

Gabe leaps onto the counter and Patrick instantly takes a step back, reaching out to shove Gabe off of it.

 

“Get down!” Patrick hisses, scowling at him.

 

Gabe ignores him like he does, and he starts to take his jacket off. Patrick really wants him to not take any of his clothes off, but feels very relieved when Gabe just throws his jacket away and sits down, apparently content in jeans and a t-shirt. That’s good enough for Patrick though, but he takes another step back for good measure.

 

“Keep your clothes on!” Andy orders, but he really wants to laugh, “What type of place do you think this is?”

 

Patrick feels like it is a really ironic question, because it’s _meant_ to be a fucking coffee shop, where they sell coffee to normal people. Patrick needs to check his contract because he didn’t sign for any of this.

 

The bell goes and practically the room freezes. Patrick looks past Gabe so he can see a black haired man in the doorway of their coffee shop, looking _very_ lost. Patrick doesn’t blame the poor man, because like he’s previously stated, this is a place where coffee is sold, not a cheap disco.

 

“Uh, um, I must’ve... Uh, sorry,” the man stammers, gulping before turning shakily.

 

Frank raises his head from the paper in agitation, “Mother fucker!”

 

The man stops in his tracks as the yelp of frustration catches his attention, his hand on the door handle as his head turns to face Frank.

 

“No, you are in the right place,” Patrick cuts in, pushing Gabe away and going up to the man, before calling, “Turn off that dreadful music!”

 

Gabe scowls, but pushes the button on the remote to pause the music. All eyes appear to be on the dark haired man and Patrick, so he gestures to the counter lamely.

 

“This is, uh, _meant_ to be a coffee shop,” Patrick tries to elaborate, shaking his head in disappointment.

 

He should have stopped it when he had the chance.

 

The man is smiling though, and he’s still looking at Frank like he wants him to speak.

 

Frank grins at him, shrugging carelessly, “They sell good coffee, dude.”

 

“Yeah?” the man raises an eyebrow, smile still present.

 

Frank nods at him, beckoning him over and scooting up so the man could sit beside him. “I mean, you come for the coffee, and stay for the entertainment.”

 

If anyone could make something sound great when it’s really fucking lame, then it’s Frank, so Patrick decides to leave them to it.

 

He sighs and waves a hand at Gabe dismissively as he moves back to his post behind the counter. Gabe smirks at him before slamming on the stereo again, getting up and dancing to that crap pop music that is all over.

 

The man doesn’t seem to mind, Patrick notes as he glances over, and has apparently forgot about the need for coffee as he listens to Frank rant on about stupid blank paper and that it would be cool if he was a wizard so that he could make it write itself.

 

Frank looks over at him for a moment, and Patrick decides to give the fucker some payback as he smirks at him knowingly. Frank turns bright red, forcing his attention back down to the paper.

 

Patrick feels pretty triumphant.

\-------

 

“Where’s Wentz?” Andy asks him as he enters the coffee shop in the early hours of the morning.

 

Patrick jerks his head up from where he was leaning on the counter, blinking his eyes opening tiredly.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Never mind,” Andy laughs softly, ruffling Patrick’s hair as he moves over to the staffroom.

 

Patrick scowls at him, before he remembers that obviously he didn’t have his hat on. He stands shakily upright, wiping his mouth and eyes before he’s in search for his hat.

 

Then there he is, all smiles and teeth and bright and just... _ugh_. _No one_ should be this chipper at this time of the morning!

 

“If I could reach out and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, I'd hold the sky in the palm of my hand,” Pete tells him so quietly, so sincerely, that Patrick freaking blushes.

 

Pete’s smiling _again_ after he sees it though, ad Patrick just wants to go hide in a hole somewhere. Pete looks really smug, and triumphant, and _successful_.

 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

\------------

 

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Gabe asks as he snaps a breadstick in half.

 

Patrick leans over to take hold of one half, nibbling on the end before sighing, “I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I might end up falling even harder for him,” Patrick explains like it’s obvious, wiping his hands.

 

Gabe looks more confused than usual, but Patrick doesn’t want to elaborate.

 

“Don’t worry,” Andy interrupts, making himself a beverage, “Patrick-logic is puzzling sometimes, and kinda stupid.”

 

Patrick flips him off, hitting his head on the counter.

 

“Where’s Frank?” he mumbles in hopes to change the subject, voice muffled.

 

“Out with Gerard,” Andy answers, going over to sit in his chair and pulls out the newspaper.

 

Gabe snickers, whispering, “Old man,” under his breath.

 

“Heard that!” Andy shouts way too loudly, “And- Hey, wait, you’re fucking older than me!”

 

“Who’s Gerard?” Patrick asks hastily, raising his head in hopes of ending the argument that would brew.

 

Gabe laughs, saluting Andy childishly before swivelling around and dunking his breadstick into his coffee, “You know that dude who interrupted our dance party?”

 

Patrick does remember, and yeah, he should have expected that. He can feel himself smiling, and he’s made a note to make fun of Frank when he sees him next, but really he feels like a proud brother. At least now Frank will have something to do with his life, other than complete impossible stupid tasks that Andy and Joe have seem to actually forgotten all about. He’ll have to tell Frank that later.

 

“Patrick?” Gabe asks, waving a hand in front of his face.

 

“Oh, what?” Patrick blinks, shaking his head.

 

“Nothin’,” Gabe smirks, finishing his breadstick before lying down on the counter.

 

Patrick grimaces, taking a step back as his eyes wonder to the door. He’s hoping Frank will come in, or even William, and Hell, he’s even hoping Pete will come through that door. Anything to get Gabe out of his face.

 

He tries not to seem disappointed when no one shows up.

\--------

 

The sun is so bright that he’s practically _forced_ to spend the day outside. He’s not sure how that sort of logic works, but this is Brendon, and hardly any of his logic seems to be the level of normality that Patrick might have.

 

Ryan is just as against going outside as Patrick is, and they try to team up against Brendon. They try, really they do, and it’s just that they fail. No one with a heart that beats can resist Brendon.

 

“It’ll be fun!” Brendon giggles as he runs down the street and into the gate that leads to the park.

 

Patrick exchanges an exasperated look with Ryan before he follows the youngest through the webs of other people. Ryan looks disgusted, but that’s because he’s Ryan, so Patrick tries not to be concerned too much. They find a spot that’s half in the sun and half in the shade. Brendon picks the sun and Ryan stays deep in the shadowed area, and it’s astonishing at how they’re even dating. Then again, Patrick’s been told opposites attract.

 

It takes about ten minutes before Brendon is begging to go play, and Ryan looks like the most grumpiest man ever as he stands up and leads Brendon to where all the _fun_ is. Patrick is almost laughing. Almost. Ryan would surely kill him if he did.

 

He decides that he should go grab some ice cream, because that’s next on the list of things Brendon will be begging for.

 

He’s finished paying for the three treats before that famous voice is filling his ears.

 

“Can I follow you home? Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.”

 

Patrick laughs at that, stepping away from the van so others could get through.

 

“God, Pete, that has to be the worst one yet,” Patrick decides, before he freezes because he has just actually _talked_ to Pete.

 

Pete’s eyes widen, and then he’s the one who’s laughing. “Wow, expanded your dictionary have we?”

 

“Could say the same for you,” Patrick scoffs, rolling his eyes at the elder.

 

“I only don’t talk to you because you hate me,” Pete reasons, crossing his arms.

 

Patrick tilts his head, contemplating on turning and walking away, but this is what he wanted. To have a conversation with him.

 

“I don’t hate you,” he tells him, chewing on his bottom lip, “I have never hated you.”

 

“Really?” Pete asks, his eyes brightening.

 

“Really,” Patrick insists, shifting so he could sit back on his blanket in their spot.

 

He looks around for any sign of Ryan and Brendon, but he sees neither of them, so he looks back up to Pete. The older man was hovering, stuffing his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets.

 

“Can we start again?” Patrick asks, “Like, wait,” he bites harder at his lip, placing down the ice creams before reaching his arm out, “Hey, I’m Patrick.”

 

Pete smiles at him, sitting down opposite him and taking hold of the hand, shaking it, “Hello, I'm a thief, and I'm here to steal your heart.”

 

Patrick snorts and laughs simultaneously, and it must have looked a right sight, so he just looks directly to the floor. It was definitely not the new start he had wanted, but it was something, so he just grabs a cone so he could lick it. He contemplated the pros and cons before giving one of them to Pete. Ryan doesn’t need ice cream.

\------------

“What’s that?” Patrick asks as he hands Frank’s coffee over to him.

 

Frank smiles at him gratefully before placing the comic onto the table.

 

“Gerard makes comics, so I’m checking them out. They’re actually really good,” Frank informs him, opening the lid and taking a sip of his beverage.

 

Patrick nods, a small smirk on his lips. He wants to comment, to tease Frank, but simply turns to walk away because he knows that has the better effect, “Okay.”

 

“Don’t.”

 

Patrick just laughs.

\---------

“I’m going to kill you, Saporta!” William growls, throwing the door open and pounding into the shop with a dark expression.

 

Gabe squeals, jerking off the counter and rushing behind it, hoping to seek protection. Patrick has had enough, so he doesn’t give him any.

 

“Bilvy!” he breathes, licking his lower lip and shaking violently.

 

Patrick actually, for the first time, feels sorry for him.

 

“You are so dead,” William states, crossing his arms, a glare fixed on Gabe.

 

“Lo siento mucho,” Gabe tries, reaching a hand out to William shakily.

 

He genuinely looks terrified, and somewhat serious. William swallows, losing his whole demeanour and suddenly doesn’t look so angry anymore. He gently takes hold of Gabe’s hand, pulling him closer.

 

“You know I don’t know Spanish, Gabe,” he sighs.

 

Gabe nods limply, looking directly at him, still shaking, “Te amo, William.”

 

Patrick is no expert in the language either, but he definitely knows what that means, and fuck, he definitely did not see that one coming. Except, maybe he did, because it was clear as day right in front of him, he just never bothered to notice.

 

“Yes!” Frank explodes, throwing the comic to the table as he stands up and throws his arms in the air, “Andy owes me fifty bucks!”

 

William looks heart achingly confused, which obviously means he doesn’t know what Gabe has just confessed, although Gabe himself looks pretty pissed off at Frank’s declaration of the bet that was apparently going on.

 

“How did _you_ know?” he demands, turning sharply to Frank.

 

The younger man doesn’t even waver, or look scared at all, and Patrick is once again impressed by the short man.

 

“I know these things,” he dismisses, waving a hand.

 

“You’re here way too fucking often,” Gabe scowls, “Where’s Gerard?”

 

Frank looks like he’s about to retort, but William cuts him off.

 

“Wait, what? Why does Andy owe you money? What the Hell is going on? Can someone just-“

 

There’s no more ranting after that, because Gabe has effectively shut William up by kissing him. It’s a sweet sight, and Frank looks smug as he sits back down and continues in reading Gerard’s comic.

 

“I knew it,” Pete says from next to him, and Patrick jumps and wishes he could stop doing that, because he’s going to end up dying from shock one of these days.

 

“No, you didn’t,” Patrick argues, like it matters.

 

He doesn’t know if Pete knew or not, but maybe he did, because they made it pretty obvious now that he’s thinking about it.

 

“So, I was thinking, maybe we could talk, you know, properly,” Pete starts, turning so his attention was wholly on Patrick, “Like, with food. Or during a movie. Or something.”

 

“No pick up line?”

 

Pete looks taken aback, but then he’s smirking, “If a thousand painters worked for a thousand years, they could not create a work of art as beautiful as you.”

 

Patrick is blushing once again, and he’s smiling, because this is _Pete_ , and now that he thinks about it, these past few weeks, no one has made him smile more than Pete has. It’s sweet, sickly sweet, and Patrick doesn’t believe it at all, but he takes it.

 

“Pick me up at six.”

 

Then Pete’s smiling again, and Patrick doesn’t look away, so he takes Gabe’s example and kisses him.

 

They hear the door open and Patrick will get someone to buy him something nice if it’s Gerard. When he pulls away from Pete, he sees that it is definitely Gerard, and he’s next to Frank, and Frank is smirking at Patrick whilst leaning into Gerard’s arm. Gerard seems amused before he whispers something into Frank’s ear.

 

“It’s done!” Frank exclaims suddenly after Gerard has stopped talking, because apparently the newest member of their group is a fucking genius.

 

“What is?” William asks quietly, but he’s focused on the fact that Gabe is pressed up against him.

 

“The thing!” Frank is shouting, and Patrick is pretty sure no one else knows what the Hell he’s talking about, but he does, so he smiles over at him proudly.

 

“You did the thing?” Pete asks like he knows what’s going on.

 

“Well, Gerard actually did it,” Frank confesses shyly.

 

“I did what?” Gerard turns his head in confusion, and he’s just as taken aback.

 

Patrick wants to laugh, so he does. Pete joins in, and then he’s been kissed on the cheek by the tattooed man. He turns his head to face him, and Pete is holding his hands.

 

“I’m going to have to go soon,” Pete tells him before kissing Patrick lightly again. “But I’ll definitely pick you up at six.”

 

“That’s alright,” Patrick nods, smiling, “I knew God would miss his favourite Angel.”


End file.
